The Truth's We Cannot Hide
by PrehistoricPlague
Summary: Chapter 1 - Drastic measures call for dire consequences. He knew the concequences, and swears that he made the right decision even if it may go terribly wrong... WARNINGS: Combination AU, Hughes/Roy, Slash, Yaoi, Violence
1. Prologue Part I: Ghosts

NOTE: This story is a combination AU, I took aspects from both the 2003 and the Brotherhood anime's. So listen up, Homunculi can be created both ways, this takes place after the ending of Brotherhood, except with the slight modification of Roy denouncing his position and taking up the post he had in Conquerer of Shamballa. I admit this will all get very confusing. So here is some information before we get started.

[THERE WILL BE SPOILERS]

This is mostly Brotherhood related  
Alchemist's can create a Homunculus, but they must have one of the red stones  
Homunculi created by Alchemist's can gather memories of their past lives but they are still simply false humans  
Father imposed his teachings on Dante, whom he transferred part of himself to several months before his death  
Dante seeks out alchemist created Homunculi to turn them to her and help her in her quest to resurrect Father  
A Homunculi is inherently "good" (or whatever their creator/memories/others around them make them to be) before being manipulated by Dante via their Ouroboros tattoo  
Roy has gained back his sight at this point with the help of Doctor Marcoh

So remember this is a combination AU! My friend and I created it for our RP and this is what it is. Don't like? That's fine, I'm not asking you to. I'm simply doing the decent thing and warning you

* * *

He had requested his stationing out there to put himself away from everything that reminded him of that day. It wasn't so much that he was a coward, or that he wanted to tarnish the memory of the one who had sworn to push him to the top. It wasn't that he was depressed or unsure, or lacking the confidence to step up and take what he'd worked so hard to obtain.

No, it was nothing like that.

It was because he was angry. Hughes had promised he'd stay under him, pushing him to the top, supporting him every step of the way. And not only did he have the nerve to die before he was through, but he outranked him in one fell swoop. He'd continued to convince himself, every time he stopped at the grave to leave flowers, that his best friend had been an idiot. He didn't ask him for help, he kept him in the dark, and he died breaking his promise.

And also-it wouldn't be the same.

Sure, he could have run things his way, he could have been the ideal leader Hughes said they just might need. He could have found a way and had all of his meticulous planning would have meant something. But-it didn't, not without his second in command, the person he trusted the most. And without Hughes there to motivate him, his idealistic views seemed to fade away after he had focused his entire being on avenging him.

So maybe-he had really come here to forget. It hit him when he got that visit, the visit he never expected to get way out here. He wasn't at his post at the time, he was investigating a small incident a few miles out. When he returned, there was nobody there. But he did trip over the box that was left on the ground, already buried in snow.

He'd mumbled something about its careless placement as he dug it out and carried it into the small cabin. He wouldn't even look at it for the next hour as he started a fire, and waited for the room to warm up. He relinquished some of his heavy clothing, set a kettle over the fire, and began cleaning up some of his things when he happened to glance at it again.

There was a letter on the top, but it was soaked through and the ink blurred. It seemed to have a dried a little, so he went over unpeeling each fold carefully, and attempted to decipher what was there. It didn't take long though-to realize who wrote it.

He knew the Lieut-the Brigadier General's handwriting anywhere.

Feeling like he'd just seen a ghost he fumbled with the paper dropping it onto the table hands shaking. He had to remind himself, seeing the date on it, that Hughes was gone. With that in mind he was able to pick it up again and slowly read through what he could. The letter wasn't to him though, it was to Gracia, so why was it left for him?

_Gracia,_

_My wife, the love of my life. You know that if you're reading this I'm gone, and I selfishly left you and Elicia to fend for yourself. And for that I am truly sorry and can never pay you back for all the happiness you gave me in whatever extent I lived my life._

_I'm so sorry I left you alone, and our beautiful daughter. I never got to see her grow up, keep the boys off of her, see her marry a strapping young man (someone just like me!) And see our beautiful grandchildren-great grandchildren._

_Oh but listen to me getting ahead of myself! And I just have to apologize again...this letter isn't really about us._

_I don't really know how to explain this, I think you've always known. Because you seem to know that there are certain things I can't share with you, and that I needed that one fallback. The one person who understands why I needed my best friend to be a constant in my life._

_So, I didn't leave this box for you. But you're the only one I can trust to keep it safe and give it to him when the time is right. I know he seems a little rough around the edges, but he's always been focused, he does his best and I know you understand._

_This is the last gift I can give him, since my love and life was devoted to you my darling, I had to put my best friend second. But you all need to know that everything I've ever done was to protect you. Yes, including him._

_So please, stay safe, and tell Elicia how much daddy loves her. Every day._

_With all of my heart-_

_Maes_

He felt a pang of guilt, Gracia had gone out of her way to bring this to him. Why now? He didn't know, but he only wished he could have been there...if he could face her. He set aside the note and looked over the simple wooden box. It wasn't anything special from the outside, what could be so important that Hughes would have had Gracia keep it so safe and waiting for him. That he kept it so secret.

Placing a hand on the lid, it seemed to take an eternity to gain the courage to open it.

Inside, the box was filled to the brim with an overwhelming amount of memories. Pictures, letters between the two of them, letters of recognition from the military, encoded messages, objects, everything pertaining to their friendship from the moment they met till the day Hughes died. There was even Hughes' old throwing knife, the first one Roy had ever seen him have as he had accidentally thrown it right into his shoulder once during the academy.

It was so cheesy, sickeningly so, which is what made it so Hughes. But what got to him were the pictures, how did Hughes accumulate so many? He had grown so used to him snapping endless pictures of his daughter and wife that he'd never expected he had time for any others.

And that's when it hit him. He had truly forgotten-how much Hughes cared for him. Hughes wasn't just his best friend, he was Hughes' best friend as well. They had a bond that was indispensable and the Flame Alchemist had lost his grasp on the concept that Hughes was trying to protect him as well. That Hughes didn't carry pictures of him around because-because Roy had told him that would be the death of him.

All along he had tried just as hard to protect him. It never occurred to him, he never asked for protection, and Hughes never cared to tell him.

He hated crying, sobbing hurt even worse. It was the one thing in the world Roy believed the human race did to cause themselves immense, though unintentional pain. But he couldn't seem to stop it now, even as he sunk to his knees to alleviate the wave of dizziness, the ache in his heart that he'd repressed for so long refused to cease.

A heart that didn't belong to him, as it reached out desperately across the gate for the friend it longed to be with.

That's when he broke, that's when every last ounce of self-control he had snapped in half.

As he sloppily pulled himself together, he gathered the strength to go to his dresser, and pull out a picture he hadn't touched in a very long time. Because there was something very important in that picture, something that was about to change everything.

And something that the knew would cause him to denounce everything he'd once worked for.

Yet, Roy Mustang couldn't find it in himself to care.

* * *

_Part 1 of Prologue_


	2. Prologue Part II: There's Nothing

Snow drifted lazily down, coating his shoulders and head with thin sheets of white. The soft powder taunted him, as the weight grew heavy on his weary back, soaking through his clothing. He couldn't bring himself to care, despite the fact that his body involuntarily shivered.

His focus remained on the snow on the ground that he had to continually brush away, to get at the nearly solid ground below. Using his fingertips to dig into the dirt, laying out the circle within it. It was large and intricate, he paid careful mind to each detail in it's construction. It had been sometime since he'd seen it in person, but he would never be able to forget this transmutation. He would never be able to forget what it did, the horrible things it had caused, what he had witnessed.

But none of that mattered now.

Deep inside he knew he was desperate, he knew this was a foolish ditch effort, that it would inevitably fail. It had never once succeeded in completing the task it was designed to ensure, at least not fully anyway. He knew better than to chase a lost cause.

But he had nothing to lose now.

Though possibly his loyal friends and allies would be left with disappointment and pity, the subordinates he once had would possibly despise him, and reality he had everything to lose. He knew he never wanted to fail them.

But-he needed him, he needed him back.

Despite the knowledge that he was turning in his grave, that he was going to be the one who was most disappointed of all...

"Then you shouldn't have left me alone in the dark you bastard!" He cried out in frustration to the wind.

He plunged the old throwing knife into the center of the circle, hands resolutely coming down on the drawing, pouring out all of his alchemic energy. And if that wasn't enough, he'd give it all, his physical energy, his emotional, everything inside of him even the earth beneath his knees he demanded whatever God's may be to take it all if they must. Just so he could see him, just see him once.

The light was blinding, the alchemic reaction sent electrified pulses through his entire being daring him to tremble, to falter in any way. He looked up as the gate loomed above him, forboding and beautiful all at once. Watching with weary eyes as the doors opened, and their gazes bored into him in multitudes, black arms enveloping him and dragging him closer.

He did not struggle, when a specific set of eyes locked gazes with him, sharp teeth glistening as it's unseen lips curled into a knowing sneer. He was momentarily distracted by this before he felt one of it's black arms drill into his chest. Bewildered turned to rage as he felt his heart sputter, the dark matter of the creatures hand encircling it. His empty expression changed and he gripped his chest.

"_That does not belong to you!_" He snarlled, desperately trying to keep it from the tearing force, but his efforts only lasted so long as suddenly his mind was invaded with a wealth of information.

So this is what the Full Metal called the truth.

Just before he felt his head would burst, he looked down at his hands, covered in his own blood that was staining the snow below. He choked on the frigid air, the red liquid bubbling up in his throat as he shook violently.

Barely managing to look up he could hardly make out the mangled creature before him. He let out a choked sob collapsing a bit, attempting to drag his old pocket watch out. Weak hands unscrewed the back as the mass of flesh in front of him wheezed, and shuddered, he reached forward, the red stones that he had never removed from it glistened in his splayed palm.

The creature seemed to drag itself out of it's misery long enough to see them, and reach for them before Roy's vision faded into darkness. He vaguely was aware of yelling, someone must have discovered him, hands were trying to drag him away to rescue him as the creature clung to him wheezing in panic as the one that had brought it to life was being taken away.

He only made out some of what was being said, and in his rage he shoved away the helping hands.

"_Don't-you dare fucking touch him_." he swore between blood soaked coughs.

And then everything went black.

* * *

Prologue Part II - End


	3. Chapter I: Heart

_A reminder-this is all compiled from an RP between my friend and I. So this is a joint authorship._

* * *

Sitting silently in a chair across from the hospital bed, Riza Hawkeye, chin rested on her palm, stared out the window at the darkened sky.

But she wasn't seeing the sky, images of white snow filled her head. White...until the red, everywhere. Spilling from her comrade, her friend, who was trembling on the ground reaching ahead of him.

And that..._thing..._was reaching back.

It clung to his arm, and seemed to be eating something straight out of his hand. Like a stray dog, starving and desperate for a master. Begging with the need to be touched and shown love.

But she couldn't see it as a helpless living thing, not at first. She had acted as quickly as she could, grabbing for Roy to get him away from it. Then the noises, the sounds it made, the way it clung to his arm a she pulled him away from it's weak grasp. It sounded like a strangled sob, a dying plea.

And Roy-he struggled furiously in his delirium.

She had her gun out, aimed for it's head, when Roy's head shot up, getting a burst of strength and swatting the gun from her hand. And the way his expression compiled fear and rage as he cried out for nobody to touch it, she couldn't find it in herself to go against him.

So she didn't touch it.

But she didn't have time to do more than throw Roy's trench coat over it's mangled body, and run. And somehow, in her determination, she was able to save her friends life.

Though she wondered, after what she had seen, if there was any real life left in Roy Mustang anymore.

As she pondered, life began to slowly flow back into the limp man's body, everything beginning to stabilize. Though his body was healing, his mind was lost. Memories of the life with his late friend took over his mind. They were happy thoughts, he was with him, it all felt so real.

Roy was accompanying Hughes down the street listening to him go on about how he needed to find himself a girl already. And as always, the subject led back to his perfect daughter. Things were perfect, familiar, then everything around Roy began to change. Shrouded in darkness, an excruciating pain shot through his chest. Looking down, he saw an arm, following it up to it's owner he was mortified to see Hughes. Well-what looked like Hughes anyway. His expression was different and cruel, his aura was menacing, and the grin that crossed his face was sadistic.

"W-Why?!" He choked.

He suddenly awoke in a sweat, the real pain his body was in electrified and rushed through every nerve. Though his vision was blurry, he could make out a figure in the corner.

"Who's there?"

Snapped out of her cycling nightmare, Lieutenant Hawkeye looked over to the bed.

"Sir-" She stood up, making her way over to him, and saluted.

A force of habit.

"It's Hawkeye sir, I wouldn't suggest you move though."

"What are you talking about? What happened?!" He said, running out of wind quickly before his sentence had finished he gasped.

Grabbing at his chest, he quickly undid his shirt to find the blood soaked bandages, wrapped around his upper torso. Images of what occured began to rush back into his head, and he turned to Riza looking for answers.

"Lieutenant, what happened? Where is he?" He demanded.

"Sir- please, you need to stay still. You've just gone through extensive surgery and your body is incredibly weak, your physical state is still delicate-"

"Lieutenant!" He interrupted, almost shouting, "what happen-"

He had ignored her warning, and he more than winced from the surging pain.

He took several deep breaths, trying to regain his power over his lungs, before speaking in a stern but softer tone.

"Where is he...what happened?"

"They installed an artificial heart in you, you shouldn't be moving at all." She paused, taking in his expression. "Nobody knows, I didn't have time to do anything for it, but I haven't told anyone what I saw."

"Artificial heart?" he said, placing his hand over his chest trying to figure out that night.

Putting that aside for the moment, he looked back up to Riza, expression one of concern and thinly vieled desperation.

"No one found him? He's gone?"

"I don't know." She admitted, "It may well be there still, I was the one who found you and the only one to see it, nobody has been out to investigate yet because I've yet to give a report..." She looked down.

"Him!" He snapped, tiring of hearing her referencing the being as an "it".

"I have to go find him." He muttered quietly, "I have to be sure."

He stumbled as he tried to get out of the bed, Riza looked back up expression turning stern.

"Sir, stop." She ordered, "You'll kill yourself and then what good can you do i-him."

"And what good will it do for me to just sit here while he's out there suffering!" He retorted, "He could die again!"

He went silent, breathing slowly, then turned away.

"I don't expect you to understand. I have to do this-I can't fail him."

And that was it, she couldn't take it anymore. The indifference to his actions, the calm soldier facade, the Hawkeye obeying orders dropped heavily and she grew stiff.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" She swore, stalking over to face him. "You know the laws, you fought so strongly for him, you saw what happened to those boys and even when you wanted to follow suit you promised you never would! Yet you did it anyway, you honestly thought you had nothing to lose?"

His eyes flared, perhaps if he had been himself, he'd have seen the merit in what she had to say. But he wasn't himself completely, not right now, he was too stressed and worried. Too much was going through his weary mind.

"I had everything to lose! I know that! And I know what I did for those boys, I thought I knew what was best-that what they were doing-that it was just hopeless but brave efforts of children who had lost something and been forced to grow up. That I could never be like that because I had already seen the horrors of war. But after that happened...after he-" He coughed hard, choking a bit on blood, it wasn't bad but the surgery still had to have time to heal.

He took a breath before continuing, "After that, I slowly started to understand why they were fighting so hard, and why they did what they did. How hard it is to live without that one person that made all of the difference...someone who died unfairly and before their time."

He looked up, smiling an empty smile, "As I said, I don't expect you to understand."

"You're right, I don't understand. You saw what it did to them, and that thing-" She took a deep breath to calm herself, "Roy, no matter how he looks, it's not him."

He gave her a sorrowful glare, and quietly spoke as he looked away.

"You think I don't know that?"

He laid down, hoping to give her some sort of ease, as well as avoiding further discussion. He didn't want to face anyone, he didn't want to fight anymore, the least with her. He trusted her but right now, he was certain they wouldn't be able to come to an understanding with each other.

Right now-all he could think about was Hughes.

She sighed heavily, "I'll leave you to yourself then, you need to rest and let your body regain it's strength."

Turning to leave, she stopped at the door, quietly contemplating.

"I'll go check on him tomorrow-but you should think about this. It may destroy you sir, and if that happens, you know that I wont be able to let him live."

And with that, she was gone.

He knew she was right, he knew the risks, but he didn't want to believe it. He wanted to believe that he could have his best friend back, that he could be good and that what he just gave up wasn't for nothing. In his thoughts, he drifted off from exhaustion.

His dreams turned to nightmares, and filled with horrific images like his first dream.

And he was left cold by the nagging emptiness in his chest, and the steady beat of heart that was no longer warm.

* * *

_Riza's side was written by Me_

_Roy's side was written by Nalani _

_(exempt: prologue chapters, both written completely by me)_

_It has been compiled and modified to read smoothly and details have been added/omitted from the final product_


End file.
